The Maddened Beastmaster
by M Knightium
Summary: Shortly after Roland was liberated from the Bloodshots and Hyperion by the new Vault Hunters, they learned somewhat of an enigma through the faction's ranks; a Bloodshot who operated out in the Highlands, and was iconic for being able to tame the severely hostile fauna of Pandora. Little is known about him, but the core thing they knew about was he only had a single eye...
1. Just Another Day

Pandora was as it was always; disorganized and chaotic. With Hyperion's crusade of carnage being waged against the Bandits at the hands of Handsome Jack, things were even more hectic and dangerous for those who were either not strong enough to fight, or those who struck out alone to see how they would go…they were often the ones found dead first: either from being killed by the fauna, slain by the various Bandit factions, or experimented on by Hyperion for twisted means.

The motto of Pandora was one to never forget; no rest for the wicked.

* * *

"So…the boss is ask'n for…him?" A Marauder asked another, as the Technical was parked nearby a river, with the roars of Stalkers in the distance and the iconic gunfire that always sounded on the planet. The sky was a violet hue, and the few stars twinkled, the Hyperion dominated moon illuminating the landscape and the slim and few creatures that roamed, as the four bandits disengaged their Acid Blood colored vehicle and looked up towards the cave resting on the hill, where their boss asked them to go. Not a single one of them wanted to do this but it was either this…or telling their boss that they didn't want to do the job aaaand pay for it.

Having one's ribcage used as a sex toy was a fairly good reason to not FUCK up.

"S-So, why are we out here? Who the fuck're we gettin'?" The Marauders did their best to make conversation even as they walked, all of them feeling like there were crosshairs on their head that grew more and more precise with each step they took up the hill, to reach the dark, grim cave.

"I think he goes by like…a fuck tonna names: Headhunter, Beastmaster, Twinkle crusher…"

"…dude…that last one's made up."

"Ain't it _all_ made up? Hell, why should we even do this shit?!"

"Because this guy's a Bloodshot like us; a bandit. All we gotta do is convince him all good n' proper and he'll come help us with that whole issue with the other factions encroaching into our turf! I don't want those stinkin' Slabs gettin' ideas!"

"Wait, SSHHHHHH…you hear that, Dave?" All four of them came to a stop, and waited around at the mouth of the cave. With all of them silent, they could very clearly hear the noise…hissing…low hissing. One of the Marauders, armed with a Vladof Assault Rifle stepped inside…and was rewarded with a sudden bone spike through the leg, eliciting a cry of pain from the man and forcing him to drop his gun, clamping both hands down to the wound and attempting to rip the bone spike from it. The others all attempted to lift their firearms in a panic, aiming them about frantically.

"Calm down." A chrome-tinted voice spoke, as they all slowly backed away, seeing a visage in the darkness, as it slowly made itself more and more visible.

He stood tall and proud, even with his slightly lithe form, his armor clearly reflecting his banditry lifestyle, with the faded blue pants Marauders tended to wear, along with a crimson red brace around his right shin, both feet encased in grey sneakers. He wore the same sort of jacket, but of a lime color, and with the entire left sleeve ripped off from something, as his normal arm had a black, fingerless glove on it and with the sleeve rolled up to expose skin, showing he was of African American descent. He wore tan torso armor that the Sawtooths were iconic for, and a belt around his chest with various things adorning it…some looking suspiciously like fingers. He wore the mono-eyed Killer Marauder helm, with the iconic twin horns, as a single emerald eye stared at the intruders, as the other was concealed via a slab of ivory metal, as a lengthy machete rested on his back, encased in a sheath made from deep noire colored leather. The most iconic thing was that his left arm was made of jagged, scrappy metal; a deep copper color with obsidian black metal claws tipping each finger, and there was the faint, scratched out Hyperion logo there, giving some insight to how he got the arm. Overall, he seemed like a keen mix between a focused bandit, and an uncontrollable madman.

"What is it? You disturbed my research…and pissed off Gabriel."

"Gabriel?" One of the Marauders nearly crapped himself when they all watched an unsettling sight uncloak behind the man; a Badass Stalker. Its skin was a vibrant violet color, as its wings were a sharper green hue, as the beast had orange stripes across its back. More interesting, was it had an emerald collar around its neck, showing ownership. Even then, the Stalker was larger than the others most've seen about Pandora, but it still remained smaller than the legendary ones; it was about waist level on all fours.

"Holy shit, I-I was right! Y-You're the Beastmaster!"

"I'm not _the_ Beastmaster…that's not my name." His metal arm waved, and the reptile was cloaked and gone, leaving the man before the other bandits. "It's Cyclops; we discussed this at the Bloodshot meeting last week, the one where I also asked for more professional greetings and less intrusions into my home."

"Shit, sorry…also why'd you have your…em…pet, stab a spike into Earl's leg?"

"Gabriel was annoyed. Now, what the fuck do you want? I told the boss and all else to leave me to my research, and encroaching on it makes me a little less likely to help in the future, especially if he wants to be a dumb fuck and directly ignore and forget my demands and warnings." All of them had to still their tongues at Cyclops' outburst; sure, it was blasphemy to talk shit about the boss but…when one was speaking to a man who had learned to command Pandora's severely hostile fauna to his benefit, it was better to just stay silent and _not_ give him an excuse to feed them to his pets.

They heard the stories; not a single bandit in the Bloodmounts knew how he did it, but all knew it'd be wise to _never_ piss him off, considering he could eliminate a severely dangerous threat passively, and could just so easily switch the fauna to attack the major bandit faction. One of the Marauders stepped forward, clearing his throat and extending his hand, depositing a note on yellow paper that the twisted beastmaster slowly read over.

"…Slabs in Three Horns…unexpected; I'd think their King would avoid sending his men there despite the frequent deaths and scalping for those bounties in Lynchwood but, he lacks general care for his men."

"So…you'll kill 'em, right?"

"I'll go after them and see what happens; Murphy's law is a good reason why I don't always bet on things." Cyclops slowly turned, gradually receding back into the darkness of the cave, taking the note with him, but not before lifting his robotic limb, the fingers giving dangerous glints with the moonlight's glare on them. "It's why this happened. None the less, have one of the others bring the usual here, and I'll handle the job." And with that, he was gone, and the Marauders were all rushing down the cliffside, returning to their Technical as the one who was injured continued to swear profusely while tugging the spike from his leg.

"Mother fucker…I shoulda just shot that fancy pet of his, then we'll see who sounds so fuckin' cool—"

"Hey now…it's never smart to talk shit on Cyclops…especially when we're still at his peak."

"Psh, he ain't got super hearin'! What's he gonna do, send a pet after me—" The others all screamed when a ball of searing fire smashed against that Marauder's head, as it rapidly burned away, his bloody, headless corpse slumping against the car. Their focus all turned to the attacker…some sort of…demented Rakk. They didn't know the word properly because the creature looked like a Rakk in many, many regards, but the stark contract was it actually possessed bird like legs, the beast currently standing on them as it used its wings as support, giving it the appearance of a dragon of some sort. Its hide was a light copper color, with a tan underbelly, and along its back it had vibrant red markings, as its head was adorned with what looked like backwards facing spikes, the entire Rakk looking around the size of a full-grown person, and not some sort of massive terror. The defining feature was the collar around its neck, sporting the simple name of "Raguel". With its task done, the beast spread its wings and flew off, its master's bidding done.

"…a badass for a badass." One Marauder hummed, wincing as the beast flew off suddenly. "Maybe we should be like…really worried there's someone like him runnin' about Pandora…even if he's a Bloodshot. Never saw a Rakk like that before and it's takin' commands from him, apparently."

"It's not like the others'll come out to the Highlands and get Cyclops on their side; he's with us…though…not sure why he keeps asking for those random Loader fuel cells and some non-perishables."

"…I like beans too."

"Well so does he…and he also asked for Ranch so dibs on not going to find fresh shit like that."

* * *

His metal claws juggled the note between his fingers as he walked, aware of Gabriel walking within close distance to him, even while cloaked. His hobble wasn't that far; even he wasn't savage enough to sleep out in the middle of a cave. His sneakers made light **_scratch_** noises when he stopped, staring up at the small, mostly metal house, with a cloth sheet as a door. A silent motion with his normal hand made the Badass Stalker relent and he stepped into his home, the light clicking on as he walked towards his… "office" really the home was just one big room, with an outhouse on the side for bowel movements and the like, while the inside of the house had an aged wooden desk with an even more aged rolling chair, a worn-down cot, and a recliner, with a small TV in front of it…even deranged bandits needed to unwind. The note was set down on the desk, and he plopped down as well, reaching both hands up slowly to tug his helm off and set it to the side, rubbing his human hand over his features. Despite how…intimidating he tried to be, he wasn't really all that old, appearing in his early twenties, with messy black dreadlocks, and just the faintest bit of hair growing on his chin. What was most defining was that he was lacking his left eye; eyeball and lid included, and all that stared was an empty socket, with muscle and bone visible around the area…almost as if his eye had been blown out by something or someone. The wound was long cauterized; it was almost an indicator as to why he was called Cyclops.

None the less, his single remaining eye looked over the note more, paying attention to details as he multi-tasked as best he could, plucking a Dahl Pistol from the desk corner and reloading it before setting it down, humming to himself.

"…shit gun, but it'll do." Without the helm, he even sounded more youthful, though with a light baritone voice. His metal arm clamped around a Jakobs Sniper as well, hefting it up and slinging it to his back, while the wide barreled pistol was slid into his pocket. The helmet was slid back on, and Cyclops was up once more, moving to the door and opening it slowly, chest rising ever so slowly, before a shrill whistle left his lips.

The howl of a Skag greeted him, and in a flash, one stood before him, another Badass, no doubt as well, given the size. It had the typical look of one yes, but where one'd expect grey armored hide, this one had teal colored hide, and wore the same armor of that of an Armored Skag.

Cyclops had been doing some…observing, regarding the rats and their mounting of Skags, though he used a less harsh method of taming them.

"You're ready to ride, Michael?" The Skag's only reaction, roaring sharply, as Cyclops turned his head to the Stalker. "Vanguard the cave and make sure no one I don't approve of comes in. If the Vault Hunters show up, run…I don't wanna lose you or any of the others in here." Gabriel didn't nod, but Cyclops could tell the beast heeded his word, as he climbed onto the saddle resting on Michael's back, patting the Skag's head and feeling the beast turn, rearing up once and roaring before breaking into a sudden sprint, leaping right out the cavern's mouth and dashing off. The moon continued to bear down on him and his ride; that was for the best…it'd make it harder for the Slabs to know he was hunting them. He wanted this done quick, and then he wanted to be gone; the longer he remained the more risks he ran with either three things happening: Hyperion learning of his existence, the Crimson Raiders learning of him, or the Vault Hunters hearing about him.

Not a single one was appealing in the long run.

* * *

Cyclops rolled his shoulders as he dropped to a knee, on a cliffside in the Three Horns Valley, the cold chilling him but not all together bothering him severely. He hefted the sniper up and peered his single eye through the scope, narrowing it as he adjusted the lens with his hand slowly, focusing the image and showing him the sight of the sawblade-headed Bandits working to set up shop in what was once the Windbreak Camp…power play from the Slab King but, one that'd be unfortunate in the long run.

Cyclops' gaze settled on a single, isolated Slab Marauder; his finger moving slowly to squeeze the trigger, and in a flash the enemy bandit's head exploded into that beautiful skull confetti many on Pandora came to love. He could hear distant screams on ECHO Communicators, and so they were aware of someone hunting them; with that he slid the rifle back, rising to a standing position before leaping down, extending his right leg and slamming into the ground…yet he remained unharmed, standing in a small crater.

"What the fuck?! You some sorta super bandit?!" His cycloptic gaze was on the Slab Bandit who spoke, and he responded in the best way, moving his metal arm to slow tug up his pantleg, enough to show the sneaker…and the metal leg, of the same design as his arm, with the faded Hyperion logo scratched off purely to leave the letter there…fitting.

"Nope, just someone the Bloodshots send when the Slab King fucks up." When bullets peppered his shield, Cyclops ducked behind cover, pulling the pistol out and vaulting over cover, metal arm on the makeshift stone cover as he open fired at the saw headed foes, watching a few fall to the ground, blood spurting from their wounds. He could hear more, and he refused to relent, rushing over to pry a Tediore SMG from the corpse, watching another Slab Bandit approach who had the pleasure of being grabbed and turned around sharply, held close to Cyclops as he used the bandit at a meat shield…one that was soon peppered with shots from his allies with no general concern for his safety. The corpse was riddled with bullets, and Cyclops discarded it before wincing as he watched his shields fall into disarray, watching them flicker out all together as the sign to take cover, but not before chucking the SMG at the nearest bandit and watching him panic when it exploded. As the gun reformed in his hand, Cyclops focused and thought out his next move…when he was out there earlier, he counted at least five Slab Bandits left…he could risk it.

His chest rose, and his lips pressed together; the shrill whistle being nigh ear-splitting…but he knew he'd come running.

"Hey, that a Skag-?" One of the Slab bandits barely had time ask before being barreled over, slamming into a wall and sliding down slowly, as they all turned their focus to Michael, the Skag letting out another bellowing roar before the bullets flew…and not one peppered his hide.

In fact, they were all stopped, by a shield.

"Holy fuck, this weirdo don' gave his Skag a shield!"

"What sorta fucker wastes time on arming 'ne of these varmints a shield?"

"Someone who wants his friends alive." Cyclops smacked one of the Slab Bandits with his arm and peppered another with the Tediore SMG and lobbed the spent gun at another, watching him explode into gore that Michael wasted no time in moving over to lap up, even in the midst of combat. Cyclops let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding in all this time; whenever he brought in one of his flock for combat, it always terrified him…always scared him with the notion of one of the foes he fought getting smarter and using a shock weapon to eliminate their shield and…take them away from him.

No!

He shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts, just in time to hear the warning barks of Michael. Cyclops turned his entire head, and felt a ton of force hit him when a Bandit Technical rammed into him, the cycloptic bandit adhering to the hood of the car as the driver applied more gas, as the one manning the gunner seat slowly turned to give him the scenic view of a Sawblade cannon about to fire at him, as the two in the back raised their own firearms. Cyclops's heart hammered in his ears, but he had to fix this; he knew how. His metal talons dug into the hood of the car as leverage as he put the full clip of the SMG into the gunner's head, watching his corpse slide out the car and roll across the frozen ground, no doubt to be fed upon by Rakks or Bullymongs. Pulling up, Cyclops planted his knee onto the obsidian car's hood as he grabbed onto one of the bars of the car, pulling his metal arm free, and lifting it, fingers slowly curling into a fist, as he kept his gaze away from the driver's horrified face, as his arm started to violently quake and emit a screeching noise, an exhaust vent opening along the side of it to vent out an astronomical amount of heated air…and then his arm snapped down into the hood of the car, violently denting it inwards as his fist smashed right through the engine block of the car. He pulled his arm back out and planted his foot down, the unfortunate bandits being given the same sight from before, as the exhaust vent opened along the side of the metal leg as the same piercing noise filled the air, and Cyclops _exploded_ off the hood of the car, just in time for it to crash into a wall and explode, killing all of the passengers and driver…while Cyclops slammed into the ground, teetering for a second, as he soon fell to a knee, huffing and panting.

"Fuckin'…Overdrive…" He stood up slowly, hearing Michael approach and whimper a bit, no doubt concerned for his master's wellbeing, to which Cyclops merely pat the Skag's head, chuckling. "I'm good, boy…let's get home before anyone else decides to show up, though we'll need those cells…these ones're spent." Though he was unable to use his cybernetic arm and leg, Cyclops still managed to crawl atop Michael's saddle and pat the Skag's head, the silent command to start heading back home to the Highlands, where his home was.

Hopefully by the time he got home, the supplies he asked for'd already be there; he wanted to try a recipe with beans and ranch…sounded nice to watch the sunrise with.

Fuck, hopefully they brought some tea too…sounded bitch'n.

* * *

"What information do we have about him?" Roland asked, looking over the ECHO Recording sent to him by one of the newer Vault Hunters, Zer0, regarding an anomaly in the twisted bandit hierarchy, as Lilith, Gaige, and himself were present to see the footage of one bandit from the Bloodshot faction slaying several others from the Slab faction. "How and why can a simple bandit behave like one've us, a Vault Hunter, in terms of power and skill?"

"Not sure; from what I see he's just some guy with metal parts getting lucky," Lilith mused, leaning back in her seat and rolling her eyes. "Gaige, ya got anythin' about how those limbs work? I don't give a shit about the whole animal affinity thing since it doesn' really bother us."

"Sor…ta…" She muttered, rubbing her chin slowly. "They're reverse engineered Hyperion tech but it's like…someone went above 'n beyond with 'em and made them super limbs."

"Super…limbs?" Roland asked, clearly having a hard time deducing if that was even a real thing. "So, his robotic limbs are…augmented in some way?"

"I think; see here?" Gaige pointed to a particular part, where the cybernetic limb was entirely exposed, including the exhaust vent. "I think it has an internal battery that, once it reaches full charge, has to vent all the excess heat before…doing something like that. The most my arm can smash through is concrete…his through solid metal, and with that leg he can launch himself high as FUCK into the air, but it seems to require cooldowns between intervals to prevent from damages, though that's probably not the peak of what his robotic limbs can do. But in all seriousness, it looks badass as hell though" The Ex-Lance rubbed his chin in thought, mulling over the situation present. While this guy wasn't on Hyperion levels of danger no, it _was_ problematic that he was a Bloodshot; a faction who sought to take Sanctuary by any means necessary. If they had someone like him on their side, then they'd be able to twist Pandora's wildlife into bastions of destruction.

He'd seen some fucked up shit enough when he used to be a Vault Hunter; if the bandits were able to turn things like Threshers, Stalkers, and even the Badass fauna to their aid, they'd be in some serious shit.

"We'll have to prioritize between Hyperion, the more savage bandits, and this Cyclops person; have one of your friends check out his home in the Highlands, and see if it's possible to draw him to our side. I don't want him dead nor pissed; we can't work with either."

To Be Continued.

* * *

(Newer experiment I'm conducting; one for Borderlands 2 due to me finding the game again in my Ps4 Library and gaming with my younger cousins. As a result, I'm more surprised I haven't seen concepts like these before. None the less, I was slightly unclear of the setting so apologies there; Cyclops is heard about…shortly after the neo-Vault Hunters discover Sanctuary and return Roland there; this gives me plenty of space to work with while also having Cyclops intertwine his own campaign with the main quest-line of Borderlands 2 and create new paths and story branches. As you know, some elements in a canon storyline do change with me behind the wheel, so accept this in advance. I did the best I could to give Cyclops some reasonable flaws so he's not…overpowered; even for Borderlands standards. You'll learn of these flaws and weaknesses as the story progresses; some will be obvious and others fairly surreal. Point being, it'll be weird and fun. To Borderlands fans, if you want to suggest OCs, I can see what I can do as I'm curious to see what something like that'd look like in this sort of situation. Until next time, stay safe, and happy Late 4th…I suppose.)


	2. Clash of Clans

One always tended to ask, what did feared people on Pandora do? What did they do to keep themselves occupied, when murdering and slaughter wasn't an option.

The answer?

Some dicked around.

* * *

"Heh…cute." Browsing the ECHOnet in the early morning was something Cyclops was known for, as the bandit sat in his rolling chair, clad in only a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, while he watched a video some of the other Bloodshots recorded; he didn't remember all the details directly but he recalled one of the Marauders with a saxophone, and a very frequent meme. Still, this was what he did when idle, away from the fighting and the hunting; he harmlessly relaxed.

The bandit did perk up and close the video; standing up from the chair and stepping out of the home barefooted, making sure to sling a bag of food over his shoulder. Walking slowly, he made his way down to the back of the cave, as a series of grows and roars greeted him…where a few others of his flock rested.

He knelt down and dumped some of the kibble into a large bowl, and a furred hand reached out to scoop from it, retreating into the darkness.

"Uriel, come out." Cyclops spoke with a sharper tone, and slowly, a Bullymong emerged, skin a milky white color as the fur was a deep indigo hue. The Bullymong stood the same size as the bandit, almost a head taller, as the beast stood on its legs, while all four arms worked to shovel food into the ape's maw. "You need to stop hiding…it's not healthy." He did reach both hands up to rub at the Bullymong's head, hearing it snarl a bit but make no effort to brush him away, as the bandit showed his affection as best he could.

However, when Gabriel uncloaked nearby, Cyclops knew that once again it was time to work; the Stalker had an ECHO Recorder clenched in his maw, that the beast released into the man's hand begrudgingly, and cloaked once more. His metal finger tapped play, and he was rewarded with a transmission that sounded to be set during a firefight.

"Alrigh' ya gettin' it? Good, make sure this gets to that damned beastmaster that lives up 'n the Highlands; tell 'im we need help with the Zafords getting too cocky with the aid of the Vault Hunter! Some of the Hodunks'll be up at the cave 'round noon; we'll be willing to pay anythin' to get these gold-obsessed fucktards outta the Dust for good!"

Cyclops sighed; it was a little bit past noon, so best to get into character and into his clothes.

"Uriel, stay hidden, and make sure the others do the same." He slowly walked back to the house, pushing the cloth to the side and stepping into his home, slowly dressing himself in his gear and setting a Dahl SMG onto his back, though it wasn't for combat and mainly for show…though the machete was enough. Dressed and prepared, the bandit slipped out his home and slowly walked towards the mouth of his cavern, just as some unkempt men finished climbing the hill and all stopped when they saw him, Cyclops dropping down to plop himself down onto a rock, clasping his hands together.

"…well?" He asked, flicking his hand, as one of them cleared his throat, stepping forward.

"W-We're the Hodunks that were told to…make contact with ya…you're not busy, right?"

"I was feeding my pets; what is it?" He could tell they were afraid…fear worked to keep people from attempting shit or pulling a gun out. "You want the Zafords slain and fed to my Rakk?"

"Just the 'nes who're setting up shop in The Dust, due to that damned Vault Hunter assist'n them. We ain't got the manpower to deal with it so…we're calling you?"

"So, I'm the contingency plan, then?" Cyclops didn't really hate being called upon when shit hit the fan…but still, his tone voiced some annoyance.

Why? He knew it'd make the Hodunks more willing to give him more in exchange for his assistance.

"S-Sorry, it's jus' that…you scare us…like…turnin' critters into friends is sorta dangerous. Skags're one thing but Bullymongs?"

"Don't forget the Thresher I tamed yesterday, and the scallions of Varkids, with a main course of a Spiderant Queen." He was bluffing…he had only a few Varkids and just a Tadpole Thresher; still, taming the Thresher took time as it required finding a starved one and feeding it enough food to ensure it'd be too preoccupied to not lash out when he attempted to approach.

And he'd rather not get started on the Queen…they're weird.

"You'll kill dem Zafords?"

"I'll kill all but one to tell the Vault Hunter to piss off as an added deal, but I want something in return. What can the Hodunks possibly offer me right about now?" Cyclops clasped his hands together once more, as he smirked underneath his helmet. _This_ was the part he always enjoyed so much in all consideration…delegations. In all truth, he was a Bloodshot, and his orders were to, in the words of the new boss, mulch any other bandits who are not their own and rip them apart. By all right he wasn't even supposed to be taking the job, but he was both bored and curious, and there were things the Hodunks could get him the Bloodshots couldn't without too steep of a price; he had some errands he needed to run.

"We can offer a few Sawblade Technical jeeps and other things…and…what you want?"

"A Digistructing storage unit for backpacks; get me that _and_ the jeep and I'll make sure those leprechauns bleed gold for you." He needed one of those in high particular; with one of those he'd be able to maximize the number of weapons carried and allow for more versatility and even the chance to head off to the Hunter's Grotto in Aegrus and tame some of the Pandorian fauna there for later defense of his cave in case Hyperion or the Crimson Raiders learned of his location.

He really wanted some of those Scaylions and even a few Swamp Skags for versatility. With forces like that he could start expanding his territory and tame the other Stalkers roaming his home for scouts…though Cyclops still needed to get his long-term goal determined.

"So a Digistructin' pack…I can probably find one." The Hodunks slowly began to recede and return to the car they piled into, as Cyclops stood and slowly trekked back into his cavern, wasting no time as he returned to his house and opened a dusty chest, rooting though it for the needed firearms; considering the Zafords were backed by the Vault Hunter he wanted to minimize risks of them getting a good bead on him until needed. Cyclops' metal arm hefted up a Dahl Sniper, and he shook his head, lobbing it at the wall and promptly wincing when his shield splintered, the rusty gun having fired prematurely.

"God damnit…fuckin' piece of shit Dahl guns…no wonder they fled Pandora." He sighed, managing to find the same Jakobs Sniper from before and slinging it over his back, though this time he found a weapon he took some pride in; a Hyperion SMG, with a reflex scope. It was a gun he enjoyed more than anything, considering the more he fired, the better the handling got for the gun and the easier it was to peg targets with the sacrifice of a few rounds initially. Sliding the gun onto a harness, Cyclops lifted himself and roamed out the house, already hearing the snarls and grunts of Michael nearby, the armored Skag lifting his head and approaching Cyclops once more, the beast already hungering.

"You'll be eating some Zafords today; eat in moderation 'cause I don't want you coming home drunk." He mounted the Skag's saddle and adjusted himself properly, ensuring both their shield generators were at peak capability.

And with that, he rode off, once more, thinking on many things: how dangerous the job could be, how to face the Vault Hunter if he ended up crossing them in the fight…but most importantly…

What to do with the money? He saw some old ECHOnet videos about that Hyperion Industrial Shredder…if they didn't shut the internet down for those on Pandora in that area, he could probably order one for himself and use it to make kibble for the pets out of people or various Wildlife he couldn't tame…as fucked up as it was, some of the creatures he tamed _still_ ate others; he forgot Skags were sometimes cannibalistic.

And so were humans; they weren't really all that different in regards.

* * *

Cyclops had to be careful not to let the other Bloodshots see him as he roamed through the Dust; having Michael crawl along the rocks and cliffsides to reach the location the Zafords were setting themselves up…surprisingly, it was around a Catch-A-Ride…logic dictating that they were at that one in specific because through the canyon behind it, their own homelands awaited. The sky was a coppery pink as the sun slowly set, Cyclops patting his Skag's head as he dismounted the beast, both of them present atop another cliffside…a favorite for the bandit to do his looking from. His eye pressed to the scope's lens, as he surveyed the situation. So far, there was a few Irish bandits about, including a few Badass variants, as one caught his attention not because of ability or arsenal…but who he was speaking to.

From what Cyclops could piece together, it was one of the Vault Hunters…but she looked almost younger than he did, and very eager! A quick search of the ECHOnet with his HUD gave him the answer he sought, as he slowly lowered the rifle.

"Gaige…the Mechromaner. Specializes with mechanics and…a giant ass robot." He made a note to stay away from her. Sure, her bounty was nigh astronomical, but it was also risky. He sighed, lining up the shot, and squeezing the trigger. The Zaford she had been speaking to fell to the ground, a round embedded in his chest, as the Mechromancer turned around sharply, tapping her arm as Cyclops watched some sort of…robotic torso form near her, with dangerous Digistructed claws. Initially, he thought he was safe; his shooting point was too far for her to see him easily, and even if she did, he'd be safe.

He paled when he watched that robot point _exactly_ where he was, and it seemed to vanish, to distort as it was no doubt about to Digistruct close by.

"Oh fuck…OHFUCK! Michael, run! Get back to the base and get the FUCK out of here now!" The Skag uttered a confused bark, that turned into a snarl when said robot reformed nearby Cyclops, and the bandit motioned to the Skag once more before the robot's hand clenched around his neck, cutting off his air as he struggled to breathe. He snapped back to Michael, and thankfully the Skag had fled…he didn't want to risk his friend in this situation. Gaige was a capable fighter, and like all Vault Hunters Cyclops was aware she'd have nothing to gain nor lose from killing Michael…so the Skag would end up as a bloody pile in seconds.

With his friend safe, Cyclops felt everything shift as his surroundings changed, and he was able to turn barely, both hands on the robot's arm, and he found himself staring right into Gaige's smirking face.

"Holy shit…thought you'd be harder to find. Buuuut, glad I gave Deathtrap that Long-Reach upgrade yesterday just in case I found ya." The bot let out a few light beeping noises, as Cyclops continued to struggle, trying his best to get free so he could elude the Vault Hunter…no doubt she snagged him and brought him back for a reason. "Soooo, yeah, a friend of mine wants you alive so if you play along, I won't have DT disembowel you and force-feed you your own entrails…" The shift in her expression told the bandit she was _attempting_ to sound intimidating…she was green, a novice, at it.

"Tell your friend I'll pass…got things to do and they don't involve being a labrat." He kept his gloved hand on the robot's arm as he lifted his metal arm, the vent opening slowly and that same screeching noise filled the air. Using the Overdrive so early was dangerous, especially with Michael gone and hidden, but he didn't have a choice; he'd rather die than let harm come to the animals he swore to protect and nurture, no matter what, and if he fell, they were next.

"Now lemme give YOU a choice; your bot lets go or I take his arm." The Mechromancer crossed her arms slowly, scoffing a bit.

"Pfffft, yeah right…what's the worst you can do to DT? He's literally unstoppable to bandits-" Cyclops chose this time to launch his fist forward to slam it into Deathtrap's head, the resulting **_SMASH_** sound being nigh deafening as the science-project turned vanguard released Cyclops, the bandit falling to the ground as he took a step back, watching the robot recoil and adjust himself…the smash not being enough to really hurt him but it was sufficient enough to force a release. Freed, Cyclops grabbed the Hyperion SMG and took aim at Gaige while he kept his single eye on the floating robot of death, confident that if he fucked up for even a second, he'd die or worse.

"Hey, don't punch my bot ever again! He's allergic to punches to the face!"

"And I'm allergic to gettin' taken down by an insolent brat and her floating toy; you see the problem here?" He was putting on a façade, clearly, she could kill him if she so wished, and those digistructed claws could slash through his shield in one good swipe, even with its power limit…so he had to resort to mind games, force her to make a mistake of judgement and exploit it to force a retreat from her, and not a demise.

He could tell it was working, because he could see Gaige pout a bit, and slowly lift her gun, a jubilant smile breaking out onto her face a second later.

"Roland never said I couldn't rough you up a bit…DT, make sure he's alive at least…not in one piece." Deathtrap launched right for Cyclops, and he pressed his metal foot to the ground, opening the exhaust vent and charging up for another Overdrive, lifting his normal leg up and kicking off to leap away from the robotic foe's slashes and peppering him with his SMG, watching the shields flicker and crackle as the bullets hit them.

His own shields were flickering as well; Gaige was shooting…though her accuracy could use some improvement. Sadly, the shock of her own involvement forced him to abort the Overdrive attack; the vent along his arm closing up as the screeching noise came to a halt.

That was when he noticed that her rounds had an eerie green tint to them…those were Corrosive Rounds!

"Loaders're weak against acid…shoulda thought of that." The bandit landed and reared his fist up once more, just in time for Deathtrap to slam the back of his hand into Cyclops' chest, breaking the shield all together and sending him skidding back, no doubt with something bruised and something else broken all together, as he sucked in air.

"Can't fight me yourself…so you use your weaponized dildo to bring down just a mere bandit…how pathetic." He had to retain his façade as best he could, and force her hand, since she beyond forced his own; her robot broke his own shield with one strike, and a claw flurry could easily do it again and take his arm with it. Even then, if he did fight her one on one, she had a gun specifically designed to destroy armored foes, like Loaders; the things his arm and leg were salvaged from.

She put him into a corner…but he refused to back down.

"Hmm…lemme think about that…DT…make sure he feels it." And so, this was how it was. He steeled himself, and lifted his arm, the vent opening once more as it quaked again, this time violently and sporadically as the shaky fingers finally made a fist, as if the very limb was about to explode! He had no choice but to use a full powered Overdrive Punch on the robot; it was the only way to disable it for the time so he could escape the fight…she was clearly deadest on getting him. Gaige's robotic enforcer wasted no time in launching right for him, clawed hand outstretched to grab him. Even as he charged up, Cyclops was not idle; he was calculating and planning not just how hard to strike with the Overdrive, but _where_ to strike as well. He didn't want to break the robot entirely…foe or not, she had a bond to it from what he saw, almost like himself to the animals in his cave. So, with how much armor and hull it had, and also weighing in shields, a full power Overdrive Punch would drop it, but not kill it, if he aimed for center mass.

Deathtrap was within range, and Cyclops _launched_ his fist at the foe, the knuckles of his metal making contact with the chest of the robot, and the resulting force was strong enough to not only create a nigh sonic boom, but to also send them both flying back from the sheer power and force behind the impact, as the bandit rolled across the ground, while Deathtrap slammed into a rocky wall to leave an indent of himself there, as Cyclops worked towards righting himself, huffing and panting, as the air snapped past him from the residual force of the strike…and he realized he had lost all feeling in his arm all together.

His eye focused on it hanging lifelessly, fingers giving a minor twitch before going limp; he spent the entire fuel cell in one punch!? He couldn't let her know that…otherwise she'd see how to crush him, because from what he saw, she wore a visage of pure fear from how hard he punched her robot, currently next to it and frantically trying to restore him, while the bot itself lifted a hand, almost as if he still tried to fight. For the time being, she was distracted, and that was what mattered.

He was met with a crossroads; he could either continue and wipe out the very alert Zafords, or flee.

A sigh left the bandit, and he started to run, trying to avoid from expelling any more energy for his remaining cybernetic limb unless he needed, disappearing quickly from the battlefield and crawling up the rocks, though at a limited pace. Gaige'd be focused on checking her bot; Cyclops doubted she'd come for him with the condition Deathtrap was in…damaged but not broken. It'd work, though he'd rather not be within radius for her or the Zafords while he was in his weakened state.

Crawling over the rocky peak, Cyclops was able to see some Bandit Technials cruising about…the bloody red eye on them told him they were Bloodshots…so it gave him an idea. Reaching down, he scooped up a jacket from a deceased Marauder and wrapped it around his arm, tightening it like a cast while he slid his pant leg down…if he was right, then these Bandits wouldn't know too much about how he worked.

"Hey! Slow the fuck down!" He almost broke character for a second, but he managed to retain enough of it for one of the cars to slow down and eventually pull up next to him, the Elite Marauder leaning out and looking over the maddened beast master.

"Ho~ly shit…you okay man? What happened to your arm?" He could use the truth, but he had a better idea.

"Vault Hunter attacked me while I was killing some intrusive Zafords; they're havin' talk of entering our territory to continue their war with the Hodunks so you guys should head over there and wipe 'em out to send a good message, same for the others if you see them."

"Wait, you aren't coming to help slaughter those Irish freaks? There'll be plenty of booze."

"Unfortunately, no; I'm needed elsewhere." It was a lie; he had to retain a façade of being nigh invincible to ensure the Bloodshots didn't disturb him. Telling them that his arm and leg were finite meant there was a risk of him losing that idea; besides, he was more impressed the limb didn't break with a full powered punch with the Overdrive active. "But before I head for another job, can you lend me a Technical to return home with? One of the Bullymongs might've gotten out."

"Oh sure; Tim get the fuck offa ya jeep, let 'im have it!" One of the Bandits dismounted the Technical and Cyclops wasted no time planting himself behind the wheel, having some minor issue due to his concealed arm. Once he got it down, he floored it and swerved right, making a bee-line back to his home in the Highlands. It'd take a while, but it beat being captured by a Vault Hunter for some evil purpose.

Evil to him, that was. He just feared that they'd skin him or force him to give up his secrets about the Bloodshot hierarchy…it was pretty simple; whoever was strong enough to hold onto his goods and gear, while inspiring fear, got people to work for him.

That was literally how all the Bandits worked.

* * *

The Technical parked, and Cyclops slowly climbed out the seat, shaking the sleep out of his eye as he walked up the rocky peak to reach his cave. He had to go extra and take an additional hour to ensure no one tracked him; considering the Hodunks found his spot so easily it was a matter of time before the Zafords did and in the process the Crimson Raiders. He didn't have the tools and arsenal to fight off foes like that for the time being…so he had stay as under the radar as physically possible.

However, the sight of the Hodunks resting outside his cave made him worry a tad.

"You're here because things got bad, right?"

"Actually naw; 'dem Zafords all went back to whatever hellhole they came from." Under his helm, Cyclops perked an eyebrow…that was weird.

"Surreal; don't remember terrifying them that much with a few mass murders."

"Yeah, they think you attracted the entire Bloodshot army to where they were, scared them shitless and they're refusin' to ever come out into The Dust with the chance of being attacked." Cyclops just avoided mentioning the likelihood of the Bloodshots also going after the Hodunks as a result of the increased activity. But…details. "Still, Horas over there's got the thing you wanted; can we call ya again for help if the Zafords get dangerous?"

"I'll see what I can do; Murphy's Law after all." He moved past them and continued walking into his cave, accepting a cube-shaped backpack; one that reeked of Hyperion creation. The yellow color scheme with the black words across it gave that indicator heavily. But, the job was done, and he really didn't need to do anything except fight a robot.

…and not win, nor lose; by all right he should be dead right now. Had Gaige been sent to kill him, she could have just had her robot impale him and she could pepper him while he was helpless while laughing manically, like many on Pandora did in the situation of death. Due to her needing him alive for some reason, she held back. The thought of that being the only reason he escaped…it actually hurt his pride, to know that he got away with just pure _luck_ ; not the skill he trained to obtain, nor his arsenal and damn sure not his robotic limbs…he got away from her because he was needed more alive, as opposed to deceased. He refused to kill her not because she wouldn't have come back, because he was very aware the Vault Hunters trusted the New-U stations despite Hyperion pulling their strings, but because if he _had_ slain her, then what? He'd be in even more trouble because she'd classify him as a threat the others would need to look into…and threats such as that would be faced with the entire team.

He wouldn't stand a chance against a combined might such as that. And Cyclops knew that with his demise, it'd mean the same for the seven named creatures in his cavern, along with the others who roamed around his territory. He named them all certain names for a reason, after all.

Angels were harder to kill than one expected.

* * *

Cyclops plopped down in his chair, grunting and fiddling with his arm until he pulled a latch open on the upper part of it, the one closest to his fleshy shoulder, and worked to tug out the spent, volatile fuel core. Cyclops was shirtless for the time, humming to himself as he held the grey colored battery-like object, his arm falling limp as the power for it was cut off all together. Standing slowly, the bandit moved to a brown, wooden cabinet in the corner of his home, opening it with his normal arm and reaching in to pluck out another cell, sliding it into his arm and jamming it in, wincing when the arm twitched a few times, the battery kicking in as he slid the latch shut.

"Should last for another month…provided if I can stop fucking Overdriving," He pulled another cell out and sat down, opening a latch along his shin and plucking the cell from there as well. "Might as well top them both off…just in case." He made a note to get some more Loaders for in advance, but for now, it was late and he really didn't have much else to do…so thus, he considered doing what many young adults did when they had a lot of free time and no one about.

He accessed the ECHOnet, and slowly reached for a bottle of lotion, glancing around suspiciously before he noticed something…an article someone at Hyperion wrote.

It caught his eye because it regarded him: _Cyclops, the Enigma of Pandora._ A few taps on the holographic screen at his desk rewarded him with a full view of the article.

 _Many things on Pandora confuse us at Hyperion and even the rest of the known worlds in the galaxy: the surreal fauna, the sociopathic denizens, and even the fabled Vaults lying across the planet. However, for me, one thing both perplexes and confuses me; the man known only as Cyclops. From what reports show, he's a bandit allied with one of the many warring factions, squandering over finite supplies and finite land as well. But, despite his alliances and allegiances, he seems to be a recluse if anything. I feel this stems from his overall theme of being one of the first recorded humans on Pandora to tame the extremely hostile xeno-fauna and use them for more than just simple war beasts but companions; friends._

 _The lowly Skags, typically a subject of annoyance and meat to many Pandorians, seem to trust the Cyclops; satellite footage shows that a local pack has taken a shine to him and considers him an alpha of sorts, like a wolfpack would to someone who raises them._

 _While this alone is impressive, I've personally seen him work to domesticate the unseen predators known as Stalkers and even the leathery aviator creatures known as Rakks. How he does this remains to be seen but it could be much like animals on Earth, with using patience, love, and above all else, a nurturing nature._

 _The things I've observed regarding him show he doesn't scold or harm the beasts like the warring bandits do, so that could be a key factor to determine why much of the fauna in his reported location seem to be so trusting towards him; animal communicate and socialize, and when they tell the others in their ilk about him, then more come to nest and live in his location with the promise of food and security. Because of this, Hyperion can't get any more direct info…also considering the boss has a severe hatred to all things bandit related. Still, I feel this Cyclops could be an interesting person to interview._

 _In a few days, I plan to venture down to the dangerous planet from Elpis and see if it's possible to locate him for a direct interview, provided he's not as maddened as the locals say. The research and advances he's made with domestication could one day make these burdensome beasts safer for those who will live in Hyperion's new city of Opportunity capable of being kept as pets, and not as pests. To my readers, please sit tight; I'll be back eventually with new findings._

 _-Torunn Sigrid._

"…I have an admirer." Cyclops merely chuckled to himself as he set the lotion down, no longer in the mood as he rubbed his chin. He didn't expect someone to actually take an interest in his work, but sure enough, someone from Hyperion found that interesting, though with a name like that they might as well be another species or something! He did have some minor worries…the way the article was worded meant that she didn't have his exact coordinates, but it _did_ mean they guessed where he was in response to melting pots of life on Pandora. It made sense to consider, but it might not guarantee that they'd find him.

Still, good to know some girl was researching him with a keen interest, even if it was just because he tamed some animals. Perhaps finding this

Cyclops let a sigh escape him, as he cut the holographic screen off and set down his device, moving to undress and lay down in his cot of a bed, clad in his boxers only while rested his head on the ratty pillow he was used to. As he thought more on it…he never had anyone find him interesting, before he became the Cyclops bandits feared and loved…before he was the man he was, he was just some random stranger attempting to survive on Pandora after coming from Eden-5.

Somehow that turned into the best mistake of his life. But, it was time to rest; tomorrow he planned to get some work done in those bogs…and…also he planned to venture out and bring some Rakks to the cave and have them serve as scouts. As he drifted off into the world of rest, he could still hear the steady hums of Pandora's wildlife and even the sounds of gunfire.

How odd that such a harrowing sound became one that lulled him to sleep.

To Be Continued…


End file.
